


A Fair Trial

by lesbianophelia



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, mockingjay au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 10:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5244725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianophelia/pseuds/lesbianophelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mockingjay AU. Katniss doesn't think to negotiate until after the victors are rescued from the Capitol.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fair Trial

Haymitch was the one to tell me where I could find Peeta. The compartment number, 3908, is written on my sweating palm with a black marker, but it’s coming off on the leg of my regulation pants by the time I reach the right floor. It’s not like I could forget, though, where he is. Not after I’ve spent the last forty-eight hours trying to find him.   
  
There are no locks on the door, just hinges. It swings open soundlessly as soon as I put weight against it. I hear a noise, like something a cowed animal would make, only all too human, and familiar, although I’ve never heard Peeta make a sound like that before. There are doctors surrounding him, and while one of them calls for help over their earpiece at the sight of me, I push my way through them, all elbows and shoulders, until I reach him.

He’s bound to the wall, half naked, the chains around his wrists doing nothing to hide the way he’s shaking. The shackles force him to curl up on himself. But he strains against his restraints at the sight of me all the same. He croaks out something that sounds like my name, and I can’t help the sob that rips through me.   
  


I can’t hold him as tightly as I’d like, he’s so covered in bruises and gashes. The doctors have connected him to tubes and wires that end up pressed between the two of us. He’s wasted away so much that it’s not hard to shield his body with my own.

  
“Was she given permission to visit the prisoner?”   
  
“Prisoner?” I snarl, and Peeta recoils, even if just slightly.   
  
The doctor sounds uncomfortable when he speaks, but I don’t dare look away from the boy in front of me. No one seems to have even thought to wash his face, and the hesitance in his eyes when I reach to wipe a smudge from his cheek horrifies me.   
  
“He’s a known traitor,” says the man. “President Coin herself said he needs a fair trial.”   
  
“There’s no such thing,” I say. “They all hate him!”   
  
He’s shaking like a leaf, now. “I told them that … I … I’ll cooperate. I don’t –” he cuts himself off. “They said I – that I wasn’t going to be able to see you. I –”   
  
It’s all I can do not to growl my displeasure at this. Why does he need to cooperate? Didn’t he do enough, warning us about the bombing? And haven’t I done everything they asked of me, recording propos and standing beside Coin while she made speeches that seemed to go on forever?   
  


“I’ve been looking for you,” I try to assure him, running my fingers through his hair in an attempt to push it away from his eyes. He shudders at the contact, and I wonder if I’m being selfish, touching him anyway.  “They wouldn’t tell me where they put you. But I didn’t stop looking,” I say. “I’m not going anywhere,” I promise, and he hangs his head a little, so that it can press against mine as he nods. I don’t dare look away when I address the doctors. “Tell President Coin I want a meeting.”   
  
One of them laughs. “You can’t just demand –”   
  
“Yes, I can,” I say. “I can demand anything I want. I’m the Mockingjay, aren’t I? You tell her that I’m not leaving him, and that I’m not recording any videos or going anywhere until Peeta Mellark is granted full immunity, effective immediately.”   
  
“Miss Everdeen,” one of them begins, a little nervously. “Surely you’re not giving the rebellion up for your boyfriend?”   
  
It’s not meant to be a question, but that’s how it comes out.   
  
In response, I curl myself even further around Peeta. “I guess that’s for the President to decide,” I say.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Gentlemama for betaing.


End file.
